The CITADARK Team

Finnick watched Seneca, tense, as the fox worked on Aerith in a bid to stop the bleeding... or at the very least, slow it. His eyes volleyed between the two, her scales beginning to become too pale for his liking. Even as Haymitch joked on about Seneca being a poor choice in healers, said fox grumbled about it being his job. Finnick's eyes flicked to his mangy form, curiosity and confusion building in him once more. 'He's said that before... What does that even mean...?' Finnick asked himself, brow furrowed with his thoughts.

Thankfully, between Aerith telling everyone to shut up and Len's guffaw over it, Joy returned with good news. Berries came from her claws, putting forther the lone Pecha berry on the island. Some relief came to Finnick, glad that at least something was looking up. Haymitch, however, was not entirely concerned with the "Dragon Lady" and waltz toward the pile of berries, shopping for himself.

He hadn't come across many berries in the confines of the human fortress, so the thought of a berry was pretty intriguing. He picked up a fat Oran, popping it into his mouth without hesitation. He nodded to the vulture, walking back to his spot, somewhat satisfied with his acquisition. "Thanks, Sweetheart. Seems I owe you an apology; you are useful for more than just bitching."

Lennor frowned when the boney-bird came back with a Pecha. It was pitiful and tiny, but it was still a Pecha. If it had reached even a small bit of maturity it could still neutralize the toxins within Aerith, it would just take a little longer. Quickly pulling back on his mask as a joker he wiped away and trace of worry lest the others suspect that he was involved. They couldn't know...not yet. Seneca seemed too adept for his liking on treating the injured female and Lennor realized the fox would have to be the next to go.

"Thanks, Sweetheart. Seems I owe you an apology; you are useful for more than just bitching."

Lennor laughed at Haymitch's response to Joy, not even bothering to hide it. The Marowak didn't seem so bad compared to the other goodie-two-shoes he was surrounded by. Eying the Pecha berry as Joy handed it off to Seneca Lennor prayed for it to hit the ground and smash, because if Aerith ever came to he would have hell raining down on him. That female was quite the juggernaut for not even reaching her first evolution, and would go after him without stopping until he was a green smear on the ground. No..she couldn't be allowed to wake...

"Do you think that pathetic little thing is really going to help?" he asked sarcastically, trying to distract the fox from grabbing it. "Aerith is a brick wall, and that berry looks like a lima bean. What good could it possibly do?" If he could keep them just distracted enough he would be able to grab it...just a little more...

Aerith shifted and cried out as the venom began to reach her brain, causing her body to go taut and an arm to swing out and strike Len. "The hell..!" he cried out as he was tossed, already sore body crashing to the floor. "Restrain her would you?!" Aerith could hear the voice screaming and despite the pain there was a small smile trying to come through. She had hit Lennor and she knew it. That little bastard deserved it for doing this to her. She just hoped whatever berry they were talking about would ease the poison coursing through her body and fast.

((Snitch, you've permission to feed Aerith the berry however you need to.))

"I found a couple berry plants on higher ground! I'll bring more!"

The sudden shower of berries were apt to make the fox jump, his body jerking away as the items hit the floor with rhythmic thumps. Still, this was a blessing. Scanning the items for glimpse of that single berry that would effectively save both Aireth’s and his own life, the Zoroark was bitterly disappointed. A sinking feeling gripped his chest, stomach churning uncomfortably as he struggled to disguise his growing fear. The dragon was getting worst, far too pale to be healthy as the poison showed no mercy. Before long it would be upon her brain. By then, she would be beyond saving. Chewing his lip, nervous, as his attention volleyed regularly between his patient and the victors, Seneca was soon faced with the addition of Joy, now landed to stand in front of him.

"Only one I could find on the whole island, unfortunately... She getting any better?"

Cowering from the bird on instinct, forgetting that she had no real reason to demand his death, Seneca’s eyes lit up at the sight of the measly Pecha she shuffled towards him. A small smile tugging at his lips, the Zoroark gave a hurried nod of his head in thanks.
“She will now,” At least he hoped she would. He hadn’t a lot to work with, but there was a chance. The berry’s healing properties would attack the poison directly, seeking out the offending substance as soon as she ingested it. Ideally, Seneca would’ve used some of the juice to apply to the exterior wound, but that luxury had been robbed. She’d need to eat the entire thing. Yet it seemed that with one flicker of good fortune came another factor looking to undo his success.

"Do you think that pathetic little thing is really going to help? Aerith is a brick wall, and that berry looks like a lima bean. What good could it possibly do?"

Seneca paused, his extended claw hovering above the berry as he looked up cautiously to meet Lennor’s gaze. There was no doubt in the fox’s mind that this flower was responsible for his companion’s current state, the fleeting grins that hit his face enough evidence for the canine to keep his wits about him. Appearances were deceiving; as an illusionist, Seneca knew that all too well, and he remained convinced that Lennor was bad news. Silent, he gulped. Dismissing the sarcasm, he quickly grabbed the berry, holding it close to his lanky form, the item cradled to his chest.

Aireth. A terrible cry accompanied with sudden movement from the dragon snapped Seneca out of his fearful hesitation. He didn’t want another enemy in the form of the sadistic grass-type, but with the Axew’s survival came what he hoped was Finnick’s trust and protection. Licking his lips, the Zoroark had made his decision. Swiftly dodging the flailing arms of the dragon, one of which hitting Lennor, Seneca, berry held in one claw, used his other limbs to pin the thrashing creature down. There was no time for niceties, he had to act now.

Although his frail body struggled to keep the screaming creature entirely still, the position of his limbs ensured that her attacks sought neither his face nor the berry as a target. With a silent prayer to a god he didn’t believe in, Seneca pried the dragon’s jaws open, popping the Pecha on her tongue before working her jaws with a clawed hand. Whilst he would’ve preferred to extract the juice rather than have the effort of making her chew, Seneca hadn’t the time or the quantity of berry to permit a more fluid exchange.
“Come on,” He begged quietly, being as gentle as he could given the constant threat of being knocked away from his unstable, thrashing perch. She seemed to comply, the dark-type eventually jerking away from the dragon once she’d swallowed. Scraggly body hunched as he shuffled a distance away from the scene, not wanting to be within striking distance of anyone were his attempts to have failed, Seneca waited with baited breath. Please… Please be okay…

“She will now,” Joy's beak erupted with a smile, nodding. "Great," she hummed, glancing at the dragon before shuffling away, giving Seneca and his patient space. "Thanks, Sweetheart. Seems I owe you an apology; you are useful for more than just bitching." the Marowak had commented, and the vulture snorts. "Pff, thanks. No need to be sorry, I get it a lot," she chuckled, nestling in the damp ground. Her expression soon morphed into one of worry, glancing at the Axew from time to time. When she cried out, flailing her arm, the Mandibuzz almost jumped in surprise. "Arceus... The things that poison can do to you..." she muttered, cringing at the very thought of venom reaching into your brain.

Rhett felt awkward and out-of-place. Being the recent newcomer, he quietly shifted on his talons for something to do, something that could help. When the idea of flying for supplies reached him, he quickly shook the thought away at when Joy came into view. "Hey uh, do you guys need anything more? I can totally, y'know, go and find shit." he stuttered, glancing at the menacing vulture for any signs of disapproval. "Or uh, I can go scout where the undead are on this island?"

Lennor watched with tense nerves as Seneca worked on the Axew, praying that the Pecha was too small. He had tried and failed to come up with a plan to get the dark fox to drop the berry, but he left no opening for the Roselia to exploit. Eyes narrowed he watched Aerith struggle and scream, still nursing his jaw from the punch she gave him not seconds ago, and wished to any deity or Legend that would listen that Aerith would not wake up. His eyes narrowed as Seneca moved in to save her and what happened next was definitely not what he expected.

Aerith screamed and struggled, the venom piercing into her brain as sure and searing as a white hot iron. Her mind went white as a great weight came down upon her, pinning her flailing form. She couldn't see, couldn't hear, everything was just white and static. The sharp feeling of claws tearing at her brain was causing everything to go numb, her body to seize and writhe as it told of her misery. It was in this moment that the dragon knew she was going to die...and it terrified her.

But then something cool and sweet was placed in her mouth, her jaw forced into chewing the offering before her throat involuntarily swallowed. As the Pecha hit her stomach she felt it begin to flair to life, the maddening numbness soon turned into blinding pain. But little by little the pain too began to fade and soon the flailing dragon began to settle. The wound on her back stopped oozing purple and puss, the heat in her brain going back down her spine before fading all together, and Aerith finally lay still upon the cold floor.

The Pecha had done its work...sort of.

Coral red eyes blinked open, widely dilated at first before pulsing back and forth as the pupils tried to adjust to the small level of light in the dark room. The Axew sat up slowly, wincing at the strain it caused the gaping wound on her back, before looking around. As her eyes trailed over each person around her Aerith's expression grew firmer, almost threatening, before she settled on Lennor. He was beginning to sneak off while everyone was distracted but her piercing gaze stilled him, not wanting to be caught ditching. Her eyes softened somewhat at the familiar face before hardening once more, confusing the flower as she staggering to her feet ready for a fight.

"Lennor..." she growled out, turning to face the others rather than the flower she so addressed. This left him quite confused as it looked as though she was more threatened by the ones who had saved her life. "Who the hell are these creatures?"

Lennor smiled widely, a wicked gleam sparkling in his eyes. He could not freaking believe his good fortune.

((Okay guys! Thanks to the underdevelopment of the Pecha it did work to neutralize the venom but did not fight all of the damage. She has lost the last 24hrs of her memory so she doesn't remember anyone in the group but Len. No one tell Aerith that they suspect Len for injuring her, not yet. Wait until she gets to know everyone again, kay? Thankies!))

Seneca hardly batted an eyelid at the upsetting state of the Axew, his body rigid only out of fear for his own life. In any other situation, he would have allowed Aireth to die, slowly and painfully like so many others, but this audience demanded a softer approach. Playing the hero, Seneca slipped into the role of medic only for the sake of presenting himself in a more flattering light to Finnick and although a long shot, Haymitch. Her survival would buy him at least a couple hours of safety. If he was lucky, he’d escape by then. He’d take the storm over two victors any day.

Thankfully, the dragon stirred. Her body relaxing from the earlier violent flailing, the Zoroark heaved an incredible sigh of relief as he caught glimpse of coral eyes. His heartbeat slowing to a healthier pace, the canine fell back to sit on his haunches, a small smile flooding his scruffy features. He’d done it. He was going to be okay, for now, at least. Looking to Finnick, his expression hopeful for some sort of confirmation of his current safety, Seneca felt his stomach drop when Aireth spoke.

"Lennor... Who the hell are these creatures?"

Seneca’s jaw fell open at the dragon’s question, confusion thick in her tone as he snapped her head around to face her. Attention volleying between the flower and his patient seeming to be lacking a memory, the canine caught Lennor’s smug little grin and shuddered. He’d thought Finnick and Haymitch bad enough, but this manipulative flower seemed to be scaling the ranks in creatures to look out for. His demeanour faltering a moment, Seneca’s fear was replaced with an restrained anger.
“I’m the one who just saved your life!” The Zoroark snapped, keeping his distance despite the initial bitterness in his tone. It was typical that another of his good deeds had spectacularly failed. Whilst the first mistake had left to an attempt on his life, the canine could only hope punishment would not be as severe for Aireth’s case. Alarmed, his attention abruptly fell to Finnick, begging that his grovelling explanation wouldn’t jeopardize his chances of survival. “Sh-She must’ve lost her memory. B-But she’s okay… No poison. I helped her,”

Joy immediately perked up in relief as the Axew stirred from her toxin-induced unconsciousness, getting up and looking around. The Mandibuzz greeted her with a smile, glad that the dragon was awake and okay, but her expression soon fell at Aerith's fierce gaze. She had growled, looking as if she was about to battle them. "Who the hell are these creatures?" the vulture's eyes widened. "What the fuck do you mean, 'who the hell are these creatures'?!" she squawked, narrowing her eyes. "We've been here for like, the past couple of fucking hours!" The Zoroark was angered as well. “I’m the one who just saved your life!” The avian slowly scowled, tipping her head to the side as if it'll somehow bring sense to the situation. "What the hell happened to you?"

The Braviary shuffled awkwardly and listened, curiously gazing at the dragon. "...I thought you guys all knew each other?" he chirped, taking a few steps forward, before blinking in confusion. “Sh-She must’ve lost her memory. B-But she’s okay… No poison. I helped her,” "She lost her memory?" Rhett paused for a moment, before remarking; "Whoever that venom belonged to must've been pretty damn strong..." he looks away, unsure of what else to say. Joy, however, was already standing and ready. "Is there any way for her to get her memory back? A cure? Anything?" she mumbled, her original expression of anger replaced with worry. "I liked her much better when she fucking knew who we were,"

Cato was sleeping. That was all that he was doing, and he damn well never did anything to deserve it being disrupted. No one deserved that shit. The voices of many, many outraged and worried cries flung into the air all at once... well, that did not please the Steelix. He had been on the island for a while then. Normally, Cato would have loved that; being in a place with no authoraties, no one to tell him what to do? Music to his ears. But there was one downside. There was no one there. Like, AT ALL. That was more than enough to drive the armored serpent mad.

The sounds of voices and such from above him brought the sleeping steel type to his senses. One single red eye anapped open, dialating in the darkness. He was burrowed a good length down into the dirt, his massive body curled around him in an almost hybernative state. With how he thrived pn the attention of others, it was the only way to survive. Ripping his massive bulk of a head out of the groove it had made, huge jaws snapped shut and opened menacingly. "Show time." Smirking, the Steelix almost seemed to be bracing himself. Then Cato thrashed, slamming his body against the sides of his selfmade cavern. Then he shot right up, tunneling to the surface.

[ooc: Finny has permission to kick his ass at any time, fyi Sil. Lol]

It was a terribly tense few minutes as they all watched Seneca administer the tiny Pecha berry to the thrashing dragon. Finnick was concerned for her well-being, but Haymitch watched with a somewhat cold expression, his arms crossed near the bruised and battered flower. Once the berry went down, her body slowed, limbs lost their strength as she calmed, seemingly cured. Hamyitch's gaze flicked to the fox, who seemed to be more scared about the entire thing than any of them, even Bleeding-Heart Pretty Boy next to him. A small scoff escaped the marowak, attention going back to the dragon, who was just opening her eyes. Maybe then they would get some answers...

She sprang up out of Seneca's hold, staggering back toward her flower companion. "Lennor... Who the hell are these creatures?" It seemed only Haymitch noticed the malicious grin spreading on the flower's face as everyone else flipped their shit. Now that's interesting... Haymitch mused silently.

“I’m the one who just saved your life!” Seneca cried, the first to get over his own shock and respond to her question that was technically only for Lennor. Before Finnick could put anything together other than the fact that maybe the pecha hadn't been enough, Seneca whirled around to the milotic, eyes wide with fear. “Sh-She must’ve lost her memory. B-But she’s okay… No poison. I helped her,” he stammered, his voice akin to a raving lunatic. Finnick nodded, trying to soothe the fox's erratic behavior. "I know, Seneca."

"She lost her memory?" the giant braviary asked, earning some stale looks around the room. The fact didn't need to be reiterated. Haymitch merely clapped at the bird's slowness. "Whoever that venom belonged to must've been pretty damn strong..." The vulture, though, was much more.. angry... about the entire situation. "Is there any way for her to get her memory back? A cure? Anything?" she mumbled, her original expression of anger replaced with worry. "I liked her much better when she fucking knew who we were."

"Everyone, just calm down," Finnick called, slithering into the middle of the odd circle the group had formed. He turned to Aerith, aquarian eyes skimming over her, then Lennor, then back. This was likely a bad idea to try and state his suspicions, especially when the victim didn't even remember anything happening. He'd have to wait until they had a chance alone. "Aerith, we met a few hours ago. Lennor and you got into a nasty fight with a crobat, and we nearly lost you. We--"

"Shut up, all of you," Haymitch growled, eyes glaring through the walls of their shelter. He knew the familiar tremblings of something underground, something shifting below. For him to be able to feel it so well, though, it meant something big. And with everything gone to shit, it meant something nasty. The walls soon echoed with something slamming against them, proving Haymitch's silent predictions correct. While he was really only interested in knowing what it was to escape accordingly, Finnick slithered to the still icy opening, spotting a giant steelix.

"Everyone inside, NOW!" he called, the howling winds carrying his voice easily to the others. Eyes skimming over the steel snake's form, he saw no immediate signs of infection. "You have exactly five minutes to give me a good reason not to drown you," he growled, body coiling about him.

Haymitch groaned, as Pretty Boy had opted his own haven for use from whatever threat was posed outside. While he didn't mind the thought of running away, it was the fact that he had baggage to carry. His mind remembering the small treasure he'd found, he went to Seneca and grasped the fox's forearm, his grip harsh. "Time to go," he growled, his dark grin just for the damned fox.

((Snitch, let me know if that's not ok and I shall edit :3))

"I know, Seneca."

Seneca’s fearful expression eased a fraction, his brow falling as a great sigh of relief escaped in a shuddering exhale. A tiny smile tugged at his lips, utterly thankful that the serpent’s response hadn’t been bitter – he knew, he realized Seneca truly had tried. Looking back to the amnesiac and her recently more intimidating companion, Seneca fell back to his haunches, exhausted.

Although the situation was still locked in a cycle of unending stress, the suffocating tension had, for now, dissipated to bearable levels. It had truly taken the energy out of the malnourished fox, his eyelids heavy despite the constant, frantic moving of ice-cold orbs as each party spoke. But for now, it seemed, he was going to be okay. He’d saved Aireth and Finnick recognised the achievement – he was a hero, fit for another half hour of survival in his own personal hell.

And then the ground started shaking….

"Everyone inside, NOW!"

A Steelix… An absolutely enormous, thrashing Steelix had burst from out of the ground. Seneca’s jaw hit the ground, eyes threatening to burst from his eye sockets as he disbelieving took a few steps towards the icy wall separating them. He didn’t want to move – he had no intention of nearing that monstrosity, but a controlling, fearful curiosity forced him onwards.

No.

Please… No.

It took every ounce of energy in the fox to prevent him from fainting then and there. He looked sick, more frail than usual – were that possible – as he stumbled backwards, jaws agape, eyes wide. Those fleeting glimpses of the steel-serpent were enough confirmation for the Gamemaker. Seneca had to leave; now.

"Time to go,"

He felt the vice-like grip on his bony arm before he heard that smug, loathsome voice. But the power of Haymitch’s malicious grin, his hidden threat, was numbed by the sight of Cato. Haymitch was bad enough. But Cato… Cato was a monster. He had been felled by the sheer dumb luck of those damned felines, but his brutality was legendary. That beast had always been a favourite amongst the betters – his defeat had been a shock to organizers and audiences alike.

The pain from the Marowak’s grip bringing him away from his terrified recollection, Seneca’s frenzied eyes soon latched onto the grinning victor’s face.
“I…” His mouth dry, the usually fast-talking fox finding speech an unrealistic feat, Seneca’s instincts got the better of his manners. Roughly shaking the ground-type’s hand away, recoiling his aching arm as if fearing the contraction of a disease, the Zoroark stared at the creature, terrified, before taking off without another word.

Sprinting surprisingly quickly for such a skeletal creature, lanky legs carrying him further into the construction and away from each ferocious ghost of his past, Seneca hadn’t the courage to look back. Forgetting any loyalties, any charade he’d intended to keep up, the fox saw only one way of escaping the situation alive – run for his fucking life.

(( Poor Senny. Anyone has permission to catch him, pin him down, knock him over – whatever you deem fit, really. xDD ))

[OOC: Ahhh hate to do this but please skip me. ;A; I'm in a rush to get all my posts done before I board the plane tomorrow morning. VmV;; Joy and Rhett quickly flew inside.]

Lennor stood proudly behind Aerith as she leveled the group with a furious glare. She had no idea what had happened, no memory of their fight, his revelation to her, nor his sneak attack. He was in the clear and these other fools were just flabbergasted! 'This is great! I couldn't have planned anything this good!' He was practically bubbling with excitement as the horror stricken look appeared on the dark fox at Aerith's demands, but before Lennor could answer her the panicked Zoroark tried answering on his own.

“I’m the one who just saved your life!” Aerith didn't agree with him, she felt fine. A little stiff, but that's what sleeping on a hard stone floor would do to you after a week. "Saved my life huh? From what? You? I don't think so." But the strange fox ignored her, stuttering and turning to the others in fear. “Sh-She must’ve lost her memory. B-But she’s okay… No poison. I helped her.” Poison? Something in the back of her mind nagged at the word but as a headache arose the Axew shook her head, dismissing the thought and trying to will the headache away. The two birds began squawking angrily, the female loudest of all, and Aerith willed them to shut up. They weren't helping with the headache at all.

The watery serpent seemed to be the only one with any form of intelligence in the odd little group, ushering everyone to calm down. He also seemed to be the only one willing to explain anything. "Aerith, we met a few hours ago. Lennor and you got into a nasty fight with a crobat, and we nearly lost you. We--" Lennor was grinning as the Milotic was forced to go with his lie, no other explanation available, but the annoying shit of a Marowak interrupted. "Shut up, all of you,"

But his warning came a little too late as the floor suddenly rumbled and roared before bursting open to reveal a great Steelix. "The hell?!" Lennor jumped back as the rocks sprayed his already battered form and took shelter behind his 'once-again' defender. Turning against her had proven to be a mistake this early and with her memory gone she would no doubt resume her role as his guardian. Provided he pulled his weight this time. "Let's go Dragon Lady!" Lennor called, wrapping one rosy arm around Aerith's and dragging her up to the door. Aerith struggled at first, wanting to face the challenger, but upon seeing Lennor's bruised and tattered form she sighed and allowed herself to be his escort. She didn't know if a Crobat was responsible or not but Len sure looked like hell.

Upon reaching the door the Axew paused, seeing distinct gouges in the metal frame that looked remarkably like they had come from her tusks. Reaching up she traced a claw down them carefully, feeling new nicks in the hard calcium that hadn't been there before. Had she...had she done that? In her confusion she hadn't noticed the fox bolting for the exit and thus remained firmly in his way, feeling the great thing tripping over her. "You oafish coward!" she growled, grabbing one of his legs and pinning him down. "If you are so desperate to escape then why don't watch where you are going?!" If there was one thing that Aerith was never very tolerant of, memory loss or no, it was cowardice. Lennor couldn't help but laugh, knowing that her volatile response would only further panic the tightly wound Zoro. "I think if you don't let him up, Aerith, he may just die of a heart attack." But it sure as hell would be funny if he did.

((Let me know if you want me to change anything Snitch, since your last post said anyone could trip him. Pissy Aerith is just too fun to write. XD))

While Haymitch had enjoyed the fear that had seeped into his prey's eyes, he hadn't expected for the coward to run. His slippery arm pulled out of the marowak's hold, earning a sharp cry of surprise from the latter. "HEY!" was all he could think to cry before he launched himself after the lanky fox, mind now feverish with the thought that he'd actually lost his chance. In reveling in the fact that he'd captured one of the bastards that had essentially destroyed his entire life, he hadn't taken care of the deed, and in doing so, let the little bastard escape! He knew there was little he could do on a good day to catch up with something that quick. But in his good fortune, as he was about to use his bone in a last ditch effort, Seneca made the mistake of tripping over the "Dragon Lady", earning her anger as well.

"You oafish coward!" she snapped, grasping one of his legs and pinning him down. Haymitch slowed in his furious run, glad for a reprieve. He hadn't needed to run in... a while. Panting, he approached somewhat slowly, despite the danger so close. Eh, Pretty Boy could take care of it. "If you are so desperate to escape then why don't watch where you are going?!"

"I think if you don't let him up, Aerith, he may just die of a heart attack," the flower jested, earning a scoff from Haymitch. "Little weasly rat doesn't deserve that good of a death," he growled, snatching a good chunk of Seneca's hair in his calloused hand. He glanced back to the steelix, unsure of why the monstrosity had set the frightened fox off so terribly. Eyes narrowing, his groggy mind worked to untie the enigmatic knot. He hadn't bothered ever watching the other Games after his own, so the steelix's actual identity was a mystery. However, Seneca's reaction to it was so similar to the one he'd given Haymitch, so... it must have been another ghost from the past. "Looks like all your buddies are coming back to personally take a chunk out of your skinny ass, huh, Foxy?" he growled, a smug smirk firmly on his face. "Well, it'd be rude to just leave like that, wouldn't it? After all, weren't you all about manners and high class once? Weren't you better than this once? Mocking the lowly pawns and watching us all kill each other for a good laugh?! Well, Mr. Gamemaker, we should get you all prettied up for the reunion. Wouldn't want you to look all scuffed up on your big fucking day!" Taking the fox firmly by the hair, he began to drag the creature into the dark pit he'd claimed as home. This little slimy prick wasn't going to get away... not this time.

((PM me if I need to edit anything :3))

"HEY!"

Seneca heard the infuriated cry behind him, soon accompanied by the loudening thud of paws against the earth. He should’ve known this was a bad idea. Of course, Haymitch would pursue him! Cursing his own idiocy at trying to outrun, outmatch a victor, the scraggly Zoroark, spurred on by pure terror dared not look back. Not used to such physical exertion, usually keen to leave any threats chasing an illusion, he’d already begun panting, his skinny legs moving as fast as possible in the knowing that were he to fall, he would be unlikely to ever get back up.

Unfortunately, luck wasn’t on his side.

Blinded by sheer terror, Seneca’s frazzled mind had failed to register the Axew standing in his path – realization coming a second too late. Eyes widening, a pitiful yelp escaped the canine as his paws were treading against naught but air, the ground disappeared as he spent a horrendous second airborne. Reality hit hard as he crashed face-first into the dirt. The immediate pain was numbed by the adrenaline pulsating savagely through his veins, his erratic heartbeat ringing in his ears alongside the angered retort of the dragon. The canine hardly heard her, deafened by his own fear as he hurriedly scrambled back to his feet only to find the female pinning him down. Snapping his head around, expression the combination of dreaded realization and growing anger, Seneca vainly tried to wriggle from beneath the female’s foot.

"If you are so desperate to escape then why don't watch where you are going?!"

Seneca exploded most spectacularly. Snarling, his fear had boiled over, crossing the emotional border to power up an infamously unpleasant temper.
“Fuck. You,” He hissed, absolutely callous in his delivery. Eyes narrowed into furious icy slits, the Zoroark put up a good façade given the circumstances. Yet the teary droplets intermingled with the dirt on his face were apt to betray how pitiful he truly was. Finally managing to pull his leg free, the fox found his struggles had been in vain. He froze, a lump in his throat, as two more shadows loomed over him, encasing him in a darkness he feared he would never escape.

"I think if you don't let him up, Aerith, he may just die of a heart attack."
"Little weasly rat doesn't deserve that good of a death,"

Recoiling away from the jeering, the threats and cruel laughter, Seneca didn’t have the courage to look up. Instead, he shuffled away, a quieted whimpering ringing out as his frail body was racked with violent shaking. He’d only ever been in this situation once before. Three brutes had been ordered to kill him. He’d never felt such agony before, but by some miracle he’d scrambled out of the mess alive. Miracles rarely happened twice.
“Wai-“ His attempt at reasoning was cut off by a shrill yelp of pain, his head forcefully raised by a snatching of his matted hair. Wincing, unsurprised that his attacker was that still dreadfully familiar face, Seneca’s paws instinctively reached to the Marowak’s grasp, trying to lessen the sting that it caused. Breathing harshly, panic fatiguing him as he remained rigid, eyes slammed shut, he awaited the final blow. Of course, it wouldn’t come. That would be too merciful for Haymitch, too easy. Seneca didn’t want to die – he would do anything to prolong his miserable existence – but at this moment, a quick slit to the throat seemed a godsend in comparison to what Haymitch had in store.

"Looks like all your buddies are coming back to personally take a chunk out of your skinny ass, huh, Foxy? Well, it'd be rude to just leave like that, wouldn't it? After all, weren't you all about manners and high class once? Weren't you better than this once? Mocking the lowly pawns and watching us all kill each other for a good laugh?! Well, Mr. Gamemaker, we should get you all prettied up for the reunion. Wouldn't want you to look all scuffed up on your big fucking day!"

Eyes snapping open as Haymitch spoke, the damned creature finally piecing his terrible predicament together, Seneca felt physically sick. The ungodly scent of liquor on the victor’s breath, that unbearable smirk and those words. Seneca truly had fallen from his pedestal. He had been high-class, one of the elite. He was once refined, a heart-throb and idol to The Games’ viewers – he was a gentleman. The canine thought of himself now. Only a mother could love him; he was cursing at women, grovelling and sobbing with his face smeared with mud. To think of how much he crumbled was disgusting, and yet Seneca knew Haymitch was capable of dragging him down even further.
“Hay-“ Another yelp of pain as he suddenly found himself moving, dragged along towards a dark pit. Struggling against the Marowak’s vice-like grip, feeling the fur rip from his form with each attempt at freeing himself, Seneca finally fell limp. Part of him knew he should accept his fate, that he deserved this. But it wasn’t strong enough to overwhelm his cowardice. “No!” He cried feebly, making use of what little he had left – his voice racked with emotion. ”Y-You don’t understand! I-I never wanted to hurt anyone – it was a job – j-just a job! They forced me to do it! I was tortured – I fucked up and they tried to kill me too! Please! Ha-Haymitch! You’ve got to understand – I – I –“ Lies, mindless lies falling out of his jaws in horrific word vomit.

Seneca knew he was running out of time. His words would just bounce off the Marowak’s cold heart – but it was all he had. No illusions could save him; no point attacking when Haymitch would retaliate tenfold… It was hopeless. Eyes wide, teary, Seneca reached to grab at straws. It was a long-shot, possibly suicidal, but it was his last and only chance. Swallowing hard, he summoned what little strength he had left, putting it all into that one, final plea.

“FINNICK!”

(( Haymitch is welcome to beat the shit out of him whilst he’s waiting for a miracle, lol. xD ))

It seemed only death would shut Seneca's trap, for he continued to try and beg for mercy, laughably so, from one of the pokemon who would never dream of giving it. “No!” he cried feebly, earning no response from Haymitch other than his continued movement toward the dark pit. ”Y-You don’t understand! I-I never wanted to hurt anyone – it was a job – j-just a job! They forced me to do it! I was tortured – I fucked up and they tried to kill me too! Please! Ha-Haymitch! You’ve got to understand – I – I –“

Job? JOB?! With a single movement, Haymitch brought Seneca forward by his hair, stomping down on the fox's throat only enough to cut off air, but not damage the trachea. "If you say that one more fucking time, I'll carve you like a damned turkey. I know it was your job, but don't you, for one fucking second, say you didn't want it. Anyone-- ANYONE that watched those Games would know you loved every fucking moment of it, you fucking liar." He released his hold on the throat and continued forward, ignoring the cry for the milotic from Seneca. By the time Pretty Boy was done with the steelix and made it back into the citadel, he could have whatever was left of Seneca. Haymitch had some revenge to take care of.

He tossed the fox inside, causing the poor wretch to collide with a support pillar. Walking casually forward, weighing his trusty bone knife in his hand, he threw it with expert ease into the fox's left arm, effectively pinning the elusive bastard where he was. Blood splattered, but it or anything else the fox did stopped his slow approach. He then pinned down the fox's legs with both his feet, standing atop the poor creature, the glare on his face emitting nothing but hatred and pain. Finally... One down.

There were no words he could say anymore. Now that Seneca was where he wanted, no self-righteous speech came to him. No threats, no demands, nothing. Haymitch never had been a man of words, and now, they seemed... innapropriate. Each party knew what was to be said anyway... Why bother wasting time? Hands clenching into fists, mouth curling upward in a twitching fit of a vicious snarl, his eyes widened with fury as all of the hate, the pain, the anguish that came because of this rat welled up within him and demanded to be released. He began with his right connecting to the fox's face, then his left to the jaw, and just kept punching until he was knocked aside.

___________________


Finnick waited only a few moments, staring up at the monstrous steelix who had remained silent. It seemed forever, the tension building not only between them, but the storm that raged around them. The sea was swelling, the tide was beginning to spill into the little cavern everyone else was in. They needed to get out. But the thing that made him flinch was not the furious crack of thunder, but the terrified, pitiful cry of his name within the cavern.

“FINNICK!”

Eyes darted to the side, then back to his opponent. Time was up. Coiling further into himself, readying an attack, Finnick hissed, "You're not worth my time!" And so, with the aid of the rain and swelling ocean, he unleashed a surf attack, a terrible tsunami of seawater colliding straight into the steel snake's face.

With the help of the new current, he swam/ slithered in the direction of the scream, soon finding Haymitch and Seneca missing. Spotting the hole into the fortress the only way they could have taken, he quickly went in, finding a terrible scene. Seneca's arm was skewered on Haymitch's knife, and the marowak himself was perched on the fox, punching the living shit out of him. Instinctively, Finnick acted quickly in a bid to try and save Seneca from certain death. The milotic tackled the fox's assailant, capturing him in a strong hold of coils. "What the hell are you doing!?" he cried, the scene so brutally familiar. Only those in the Arena had acted to cruelly.

"Giving the bastard what he deserved-- get OFF of me, Pretty Boy! This isn't your business!" He bit down on Finnick's scales, earning a small grunt of surprise from the latter. However, Haymitch's last ditch effort to escape was for naught, as Finnick's coils wrapped far more stubbornly around his form. No, Pretty Boy was not letting go. Heaving an exasperated sigh, Haymitch conceeded defeat to the water type... for now. Finnick, on the other hand, had turned his attention to Seneca.

"Are you all right?" he called, unable to move due to his body currently restraining the marowak. Said ground type scoffed, humored by such an incredulous inquiry.

"You know, Pretty Boy, I don't think he is. Why don't you go and mother him for a bit, maybe go and do his nails, trim and style his hair. Make him feel like a pretty girl agai--ech!" Haymitch's snarky little bullshit was soon cut off by Finnick's coils, a silent threat to shut his dirty face. Still, the milotic's attention was on Seneca, hoping he could still even hear him.

((Snitch, if I need to edit anything, PM me ;u; I took... a few liberties lolol))

"Little weasly rat doesn't deserve that good of a death."

A ridge over one eye raised in fascination as Lennor heard the sheer venom oozing from Haymitch with that response. He truly hated the fox that deeply? Perhaps this was something to watch more carefully as time went on. He might be able to use this animosity to his advantage later on when targeting the group as individuals. Shooting a glance to Aerith, however, proved to him that he would have to wait on that. She looked like she was getting pissed.

She had dropped Seneca on the words that she might cause him to have a heart-attack, getting up slowly and glaring at the clumsy fox, but Haymith's words had set something off. Her hands starting twitching as she felt the electricty in the air and she knew it was coming. A fight. And from the look of the Zoroarks fragile state of mind it was going to be pretty one sided. She didn't like that. Not one bit. As the Marowak continued to rant the panicky fox kept inching closer and closer to a breakdown until finally he snapped.

”Y-You don’t understand! I-I never wanted to hurt anyone – it was a job – j-just a job! They forced me to do it! I was tortured – I fucked up and they tried to kill me too! Please! Ha-Haymitch! You’ve got to understand – I – I –“ Ending with the scream of a name she didn't recognize suddenly he was on the ground again, Haymitch stomping roughly on his throat. Furious Aerith rushed to get to him but was held back by Lennor. "It's not our fight," he warned, but Aerith quickly silenced that idea with a solid elbow to his face. Dazed Lennor released Aerith and stumbled backwards. "I will not let someone be killed when he can't even defend himself!"

A roar of rushing water halted the dragon's return to Seneca, the Milotic from before riding the wave to get to the feuding pair as quickly as possible. Within moments he had Haymitch restrained and Aerith saw the broken form of the Zoroark left to bleed on the floor. While the Milotic, Finnick she assumed, was busy chastising Haymitch she made her way over to the captured Marowak. As soon as he turned to question Seneca over his well-being Haymitch once again opened his mouth and sealed his fate in Aerith's eyes.

"You know, Pretty Boy, I don't think he is. Why don't you go and mother him for a bit, maybe go and do his nails, trim and style his hair. Make him feel like a pretty girl agai--ech!" Finnick's coils tightened, effectively silencing the violent ground type, and Aerith took the opportunity to lock eyes with him. "This is what it feels like to be unable to defend yourself..." Without warning she slammed her fist into the side of his protective skull, knocking his head to the side with the force of her blow. Her hand stung like hell from the impact but luckily her tough dragon hide managed to protect her from breaking any of the bones in her fist.

Nursing her injured hand she went over to Seneca and pulled the blade from his arm, blood splashing her hand and arm as she tossed it away. "Hey," she whispered, tracing one hand down his cheek before lifting his bangs from his eyes. "Just hold on, I'm going to help you." Looking around she spotted a discarded lab coat draped over a chair and went over to grab it, ripping pieces off as she returned. She quickly wrapped the bleeding wound Haymitch had left. "Don't move, okay? I need to see if anything is broken." Running her small hands everywhere she had seen the Marowak make contact with she checked for any signs of obvious a break, carefully watching Seneca's face for any indication of pain. "Tell me if it hurts too much and I'll stop."

Lennor watched with fascination as the Axew switched from pissed to nursemaid in only a few minutes. When she woke up she felt these guys a threat, encroachers on their territory. But he should have expected that a female whose history named her 'Lady Justice' wouldn't sit idly by when something obviously wrong was going down. It served him right for partnering with former law enforcement. But it had been funny to see her punch the hell out of Haymitch. 'Obviously it will take more than the power I have now to bring down that woman.'

But without a Light Stone, exactly how was he going to obtain that power?

((Recieved permission to slug Haymitch from Sil and to help Seneca from Snitch. Snitch, in your reply indicate if anything is broken or damaged and then my next round I can have Aerith try to mend him. Let me know if you want me to edit anything guys. XD))

Seneca couldn’t comprehend how quickly it had happened. One moment he’d been staring helplessly over to Finnick, praying for an unlikely hero; the next, he was flat on his back, struggling for air. Choking, claws desperately trying to remove the foot planted firmly over his throat, the Zoroark’s eyes were bulging with each second. He could hardly hear Haymitch’s vicious words, his head spinning as his deprived, shrivelling lungs cried out for relief. Only a terrible wheezing left him, his pleas for mercy now unintelligible as the canine’s eyelids began drooping, the suffocation becoming all too much.

Just when he’d found a moment’s peace, a quick end to numb the pain that was to follow, Seneca was tossed aside like a ragdoll. He hit the pillar with a gasp, claws instinctively grasping the surface for support as an uncontrollable coughing shook his entire body. His throat ached; his lungs were burning at the brutal return to life. But it wasn’t over. Turning to his attacker just as that damned knife left his paws, Seneca made a vain attempt to flee, spluttering until the weapon made contact. Howling with agony, the knife sliced effortlessly through sinewy flesh, lodged hard into the rock surface just beneath, leaving the battered canine pinned yet again.

Exhausted, Seneca put up a valiant effort. His claws shakily tried to pry the club from out of his flesh, his coordination eschewer as fear succeeded in numbing the initial agony such a blow had caused. So lost in his terror, his desperate bid for freedom, he’d failed to realize that Haymitch had advanced – stood atop his bony frame to loom threateningly over his face. The fox turned his head, meeting that terrifying glare, his actions halting as he knew what was about to come.

“Haymitch…. Please,”

The first punch split his lip. The air robbed from him as the warm ooze of blood began pouring from his agape, throbbing jaw, Seneca knew there was no point in arguing. Nobody was coming to save him now. Finnick was dealing with Cato. The malicious flower and Axew were probably cheering the gruesome spectacle on – it was hopeless. Emitting the occasional whimper as the Marowak’s fists repeatedly collided with his face; Seneca could do nothing but pray for an end. His body limp, fatigued by the pain, the humiliation that his demise would come as being pummelled to death, Seneca accepted each hit; fur matted with blood and tears.

"What the hell are you doing!?"
"Giving the bastard what he deserved-- get OFF of me, Pretty Boy! This isn't your business!"

Seneca was drifting into unconsciousness when he heard Finnick’s voice. Half-open eyes, blackened and puffy, had lost their earlier terror, a heart wrenching sorrow instead locked in them. There was no more punching, no weight on his frail body, only angry shouts echoing around him. Seneca merely lay there, weakly looking across to his bleeding arm, the generous pooling of crimson steadily growing about his head. His entire face was soaked red, unusual markings virtually invisible as the Zoroark began coughing, each shuddering movement bringing up another spout of red liquid.

“Hey. Just hold on, I'm going to help you."

It was a voice he hadn’t expected to hear, surprisingly intelligible to his spiralling senses as the knife was ripped from his arm. He gave a pained hiss, arm recoiling on instinct until Aireth caught it, halting the flow of blood with a piece of fabric. Seneca let her work for the moment, his mind elsewhere. In his semi-conscious state, only Haymitch’s words bounced off the walls within his throbbing head. I… deserve this… He winced as the dragon touched his throat.

This was just going to keep happening.

Looking up to Aireth through heavy-lidded eyes, the fight totally sapped from his being, Seneca caught her hand to catch her attention. The world was spinning; there was an illusory double of the female appearing in his vision as Seneca found his senses slowly shutting down altogether.
“Just…” His voice was gravelly, broken as a mouthful of blood spluttered out with the utterance. ”…Just kill me…” He never thought he’d utter those words, the sincerity in his tone startling to even himself. ”Make it quick… Please….” Seneca cherished his life above all else, but realization had dawned. He was surrounded by two, if not three, four creatures keen to kill him at the next opportunity. Well, not exactly kill; it would be more of torture. Humiliating, degrading torture.

Seneca couldn’t’ fight that.

He couldn’t win.

(( Lol, that was delightful, Sil. xD Nothing’s broken, everything just aches a bit – a lot of bruising, a lot of blood. Feel free to nurse him however you deem fit. ))

While Finnick feared the fox dead, he hadn't expected Aerith and Lennor to come so quickly on the scene. Without hesitation, the dragon came to them, eyes alight with furious rage. "This is what it feels like to be unable to defend yourself..." she growled, before socking Haymitch right in the cheek. While nearly unnaffected, the marowak was in shock-- shock that she actually wanted to defend the sleazeball fox and that she hadn't broken her hand on his face with the force of that punch. Without a hand to rub the bruise better, it was all Haymitch could do to simply work out his jaw. Finnick, though not disapproving of Aerth's outburst, wasn't entirely sure her retaliation was called for.

The marowak in his claws, however, deemed the entire situation completely hilarious. Here he was, finally getting vengeance from one of the assholes that had to cheerfully ripped his life from him, and he gets stopped by do-gooders? By the hands and coils of justice? Aerith's words rolled around and around in his head, and he was so livid, so offended, he could only laugh.

"Really?!" he managed in between breaths, earning a very confused look from his serpentine captor. "Really? Sweetheart, you don't need to show me how it feels to be helpless-- I'm sure ole' Senny there would be all too happy to tell you all about it." He began to wriggle out of Finnick's coils, but once more, they proved too difficult to escape. A tired, exasperated sigh came out of the ground type, and he gave Finnick a hard stare. "Look, Pretty Boy, you can let me go now. With Dragon Lady Justice over there, I'm not gonna do anything. I just want a damn shot of...whiskey." The last word was said as he finally escaped the coils, stumbling over to some discarded glass.

Finnick couldn't be more confused. He'd only managed small glimpses into Haymitch's and Seneca's relationship since it was so volitile. But the fear that the fox had shown for Haymitch, for the steelix outside... was the same he'd seen when the fox first met him. Were they all four related? He frowned, watching Haymitch's retreating back. Honestly, he just wanted answers... He turned back to Aerith healing Seneca, and at least he could be glad for the fox making it through that brutal beating. He sighed, only giving the perusing ground type a last glance before returning to the two, silently watching. His pensive expression didn't change as Seneca weakly and pitifully pleaded for death. He didn't know what else to do or say, except simply watch what happened.

Haymitch's voice soon echoed around them, the occassional clink of glass an undertone to his words. "Hey, Senny, how 'bout you tell us bout it, hmm? How good you are at making others so helpless? How 'bout it? I know you have some good ones," he called, glass still clinking around him. "How bout the one where you sent a whole horde of beedrill on that little flaaffy? Huh? That was good. Oh wait, what about the one where you helped a bunch of rabid dogs track down and slaughter a little girl and boy? That must have been a huge hit with the viewers." Finnick's eyes began to widen a bit, the marowak's words hitting a little too close to home. These scenarios... they sounded... like...

Haymitch soon appeared out of the dark once more, leaning up against a nearby pillar, his knife in one hand, still bloodied with Seneca, and a flask in the other. "Or maybe the one where you led a fully armed Medicham to a starving, weak cubone? That one..." He gave a chuckle, then took a swig from the flask. "That one is... a definite favorite."

"...Are you drunk?" Finnick asked carefully, hoping that the terrible imagery Haymitch was painting was just drunken nonsense. His reply was an indignant scoff. "Pfft. I wish."

“Just…Just kill me…” Aerith couldn't believe her ears, even as she worked on the fox. He held her hand with such force, with such conviction...he truly sought her to end it for him. ”Make it quick… Please….” Sorrow and pity welled up inside the Axew as she turned her gaze from Seneca's pleading eyes. "I...I can't..." she whispered pathetically, not even strong enough to look him in the eye as she shot down his hope of release. She could never, even to end their suffering, take the life of an innocent victim. It just wasn't in her to do.

Lennor, on the other hand, had a broad grin across his face. Killing the fox would help him level, help him become stronger than the group and Aerith. Perhaps since she was unwilling the pitiful creature would allow him to lend a willing petal. "I can do it." The look Aerith shot him made the flower flinch, much to his embarrassment. She looked like she was willing to kill him just for suggesting it! The hell! Why was he still scared of this bitch? He had almost killed her once and she would be dead if that stupid bird hadn't found that pathetic little berry!

While the two glared daggers at each other the loud and obnoxious voice of Haymitch broke their concentration. "Hey, Senny, how 'bout you tell us bout it, hmm? How good you are at making others so helpless? How 'bout it? I know you have some good ones." Already angry with the Marowak, Aerith was tempted to punch him again just to shut him up. But what he said next... "How bout the one where you sent a whole horde of beedrill on that little flaaffy? Huh? That was good. Oh wait, what about the one where you helped a bunch of rabid dogs track down and slaughter a little girl and boy? That must have been a huge hit with the viewers." Viewers? And those descriptions...it sounded like...

'The Games!'

Not sure how any of these creatures connected with those horrid events Aerith stopped glaring and actually started to listen to Haymitch's ramblings. Lennor was left wondering what the hell was going on and settled for huffing and crossing his arms, and angry frown etched across his face. "Or maybe the one where you led a fully armed Medicham to a starving, weak cubone? That one...That one is... a definite favorite." Realization struck Aerith like lightning and she suddenly saw the reason for his disgusting attitude and wretched behavior. "...Are you drunk?" Finnick's voice cut in, almost desperate for some excuse behind Haymitch's words. "Pfft. I wish." And with that, Aerith knew.

"You...you were a contender. Weren't you?"

((Next round or the one after Aerith will remember Haymitch calling Seneca Gamemaker, lol. But she will keep it to herself for a while, trying to figure out if Seneca is who Haymitch accuses him. Justice doesn't jump to conclusions.))

"I...I can't..."

Seneca’s eyes opened after a pause, an exasperated sigh passing his lips. No, that’d be too easy. The dragon had taken the moral high-ground, completely oblivious to the bloody, ongoing torture that would be waiting to spring upon him at any moment. But instead of pity, Seneca’s eyes flashed with a cold, bitter anger. Why was this happening to him? A decade of work and he hadn’t met any of the old contenders – now they all swarm to him at once, Haymitch firmly at the top of that lengthy list. A growl emerged from his throat, annoyed that he was in this situation – left begging for his life to end, led to believe that he truly was the bad guy in all this. He was disgusted at himself.

Whilst Aireth was distracted by the flower, Seneca’s suspicions confirmed about his hostility, the Zoroark rolled onto his side. His vision was still blurry, the ground still shaking in unison with his paws, but with the little energy he had left, the canine slipped into a sitting position. Leant against the closest wall, wincing as his paw wandered up to his face in a vain bid to feel the damage, Seneca emitted a pitiful whine. Lumpy eyes, swollen lip and so much blood. He flicked the paw to one side, a spray of red falling from it in droplets as he took a deep exhale.
“Give me a couple of those berries,” He growled, the demand lessened only by his fatigue. His heavy-lidded stare fell to the Axew knowing that she, at least, would be willing to help him. There were at least a couple of health-boosters the birds had gathered and whilst it wouldn’t solve everything, it would give him enough strength to go on. Seneca, dismissing his earlier feebleness, was adamant that he wouldn’t let these creatures get the better of him.

He’d always been above them. He’d always been the one in control. He’d felt a fraction of their pain in the form of Haymtich’s attack, but not again. He wouldn’t feel such humiliation, such agony. He would regain his title, his stature. Seneca was strong and he would see his way through this.

Reaching for the lab coat Aireth had used to bind his arm, Seneca slowly mopped up the blood coating his face. All the while, Haymitch spoke. Working silently, the fabric quickly becoming saturated with the crimson, Seneca’s face remained hidden behind the coat. Fleeting glimpses showed a small, smug smile. Speaking of the old times, his work, was bound to lift his spirits. To think, all those marvellous disposals had been featured in one game – it was a shame the damned ground-type hadn’t been around to witness more of his finesse.

"Or maybe the one where you led a fully armed Medicham to a starving, weak cubone? That one...That one is... a definite favorite."

Seneca lowered the coat, smiling unpleasantly as he caught Haymitch’s glare, unsurprised to find a bottle in his paw. His face now recognisable, small cuts and lumps only marring his features, it was Seneca’s vicious blue eyes that were most startling. A spark of his old malice flashed there, accompanying that same, devilish smirk. What more did he have to lose? If he was going to suffer, Haymitch would be dragged along behind him.
“Oh… Haymitch,” Seneca purred, shaking his head almost disappointedly. He held out a paw, a faint flickering illusion soon appearing in front of him. It was hazy, a thick smog working to obscure the image, but a ghost from the past stood clear as day. A bloodied Medicham, armed to the teeth with blades. The fox gave a fatigued groan, the exertion of creating such illusions further sapping his energy as the horrendous beast disappeared into thin air. Eyes back on the Marowak, Seneca flashed a sadistic grin. “Why so bitter?”

"You...you were a contender. Weren't you?”

Seneca’s attention was drawn back to the dragon, his head pounding as he took in her words. So, she knew. Squinting, swollen eyelids aching at the movement, he scanned her features, hoping for some telltale sign to her identity. He hadn’t known any Axew, a Haxorus in the second Games, yes, but nothing more. Besides, he never forgot a contender, a victor’s face. A short, unkind laugh bordering hysteria left him then,
“They both are,” The fox announced, almost delirious from the blood loss as his tone took a far darker tone. “And that damned Steelix. Why not let Cato join the fucking reunion too? The more the merrier, hm?” His attention snapped to Aireth, a genuine curiosity beneath the spite. “Where do you come into it, then? An avid watcher? Someone’s mate? ...Someone’s daughter?”

Well, it seemed Senny had some spunk left in him after all. With some berries in his stomach, both Haymitch and Finnick could see the fear and anguish abating even for a moment as something else began to emerge. While Finnick had never known Seneca's cruel tricks, Haymitch's brow could only quirk as he began to finally recognize how the fox used to look and act. “Oh… Haymitch,” the fox purred, lifting his taloned paw to create a hazy illusion, the same medicham that'd nearly gutted him all those years ago. Haymitch's paw clenched around the flask slightly, but still remained relatively still in the sight of the creature that still haunted him. Cold eyes went through it back to Seneca as he faltered, exhausted, but still coy. “Why so bitter?”

Through all of the pain, hatred and lust for vengeance, it was all Haymitch could do to simply chuckle. "...There you are..." he muttered, flexing his paw on his sharpened weapon. "I was starting to think we'd lost you..." He took another swig, the liquid inside tasting like piss. He wasn't quite sure what was in it anymore, who knew...?

"You...you were a contender. Weren't you?” Aerith asked, and Haymitch merely gave a thumbs up, his knife still clutched by the rest of his paw.

Finnick remained silent, his coils slowly shifting as his antennae began to work themselves into and out of knots. How... How could they all be...? This marowak, a victor as well? He'd caught Seneca say it more than a few times, accusing them of conspiring against him... But... What was Seneca? Some angry Tribute that had actually made it out alive? From Haymitch's descriptions, however... it begged more. Was... Was he responsible for the mishaps during the Games? How the worst always befell him at just the worst time? Was... Was that him? Ocean eyes flickered from party to party, then finally to Aerith when she asked her question. While he had an answer for her, he was somewhat glad Seneca replied for all of them.

“They both are,” Seneca announced, his voice beginning to lose its sophistication to delirium. Probably from all those hits... Finnick flinched as his identity was so carelessly revealed. “And that damned Steelix. Why not let Cato join the fucking reunion too? The more the merrier, hm?” This moret than surprised Finnick, turning his head back to the small hole that overlooked a small part of the cave. The steelix, too?! How the hell did everyone just convene like this?! “Where do you come into it, then? An avid watcher? Someone’s mate? ...Someone’s daughter?” The milotic turned back to the conversation, trying to hear over Haymitch's laughter.

Of course Haymitch was laughing. It was fucking hilarious. Two, possibly three victors, a Gamemaker, and some justice freak all came together in a happy fucking reunion of the Games. Fucking. Brilliant. He couldn't have planned it better. He tossed the flask away, its contents gone, and he went searching for something else to drink as the Dragon Lady got interrogated by Seneca. "You don't know her, Foxy? Thought you knew everyone worth knowing." He paused as he found another flask, testing to see if it had anything. "But yes, do tell us, Sweetheart, why you're in our little world with us ...Or have you forgotten that too, Sweetheart?"

“Give me a couple of those berries.”

While she wasn't particularly fond of being growled at like that Aerith relented, giving Seneca two of the healing berries she spotted. But then something in the male's behavior just snapped. The way Seneca switched personalities was borderline psychotic. He went from a weak, injured and terrified of his own shadow to a sociopathic bastard in the blink of an eye. The way he teased and tormented Haymitch...“They both are.” Aerith didn't believe it possible but his tone got even darker, more depraved, like he was enjoying this.

“And that damned Steelix. Why not let Cato join the fucking reunion too? The more the merrier, hm?”Something Haymitch had said earlier, something she had completely overlooked at the time, kept replaying over and over again in her head. He had called Seneca Gamemaker. Gamemaker. His eyes locked onto hers and despite herself Aerith felt herself twitch. “Where do you come into it, then? An avid watcher? Someone’s mate? ...Someone’s daughter?”

Lennor watched with intrigue at the switch the fox was undergoing. Perhaps there was more to all of this then he first thought. Where as first he had thought the fox needed to be one of the first to go, what with his knowledge of basic healing and the fact that he just plain annoyed the shit of of the Roselia, now he was pondering something new. There was a chance that he could use Seneca's inner hate for the rest of the group to his advantage, and before he knew it a deceitful plot was blooming in his mind.

Aerith stepped back from the Zoroark, his wounds bandaged and no obvious breaks, and moved closer to the water serpent and Haymitch. "You don't know her, Foxy? Thought you knew everyone worth knowing." She could hear the Marowak behind her teasing the fox, not really sure if he actually knew who she was or not. "But yes, do tell us, Sweetheart, why you're in our little world with us ...Or have you forgotten that too, Sweetheart?" Shooting a glare to tell him to shut up the Axew relaxed the fists she didn't know she was clenching. "No. But my Partner almost died trying to put a stop to one of those so-called 'games'. And I, along with him, spent over half my life trying to put an end to them." She looked over at Seneca and studied him carefully, not willing to say that he was what Haymitch claimed until she heard it from the fox himself. "That's what officers do."

Lennor could have just died right there. He knew now that Seneca was what he wanted and when the time was right he would get the fox alone.

Haymitch’s incessant laughter was proving more annoying than his vicious threats and the punches that accompanied them. Seneca winced as the grating sound wracked his aching head, a paw instinctively moving to rest against his pounding temple in a vain bid to quell the pain. The berries’ properties were slowly seeping into his bloodstream, but Seneca was finding it just a fraction too slow. Still, Aireth had done well binding his wounds and for that he was grateful.

"No. But my Partner almost died trying to put a stop to one of those so-called 'games'. And I, along with him, spent over half my life trying to put an end to them. That's what officers do."

Turning at Aireth’s response, Seneca’s expression fell to a confused frown. It took a moment of staring at the female before an extent of realization registered in the fox’s frazzled mind.
“An officer?” He repeated, brow rising incredulously. He’d gathered the dragon had a pretty firm sense of morals, but he’d have never thought she embraced it through a law enforcement occupation. She must’ve been of only about five in the entire Orre region. Whilst he didn’t recognise her personally, he would’ve been daft not to know the Games were under constant police scrutiny.

Chewing another berry quietly, Seneca’s eyes wandered between Aireth and a particularly quiet Finnick. Haymitch wouldn’t be a problem for the time being. He’d had a taste of his revenge and seemed too enamoured with his liquor to deal another punch. But Finnick was beginning to concern him. Whilst he’d never known the Milotic personally, his silence was beginning become a fraction unnerving to the battered fox.

Swallowing the berry, being sure to take his time, Seneca eventually turned his attention back to Aireth.
“Snow mentioned you guys once in awhile,” He admitted tiredly, a bitterness accompanying the name of his former employer. He’d been like a protégé to that pompous serpent, he’d idolized him and yet, one false move and Snow had demanded his death. Skimming over re-evoked memories of the unpleasant creature, Seneca continued. “I suppose you never met him, or the humans – they were virtually untouchable. Needless to say, you didn’t get very far in your little ‘mission’, did you?” He sneered. “Do you have any idea of how much money it brought in? People loved the Games. We shifted through hundreds of applicants. Everyone wanted to be a part of it, everyone wanted to win,” Taking a deep inhale, his body’s vicious trembling gradually growing imperceptible, Seneca smiled as his attention fell to Finnick and Haymitch. “Of course, a few did,”

What the actual fuck was going on.

The Mandibuzz struggled to keep up with the conversation. Gamemaker? Job? Contenders? Joy was silent, eyes narrowed in concentration as she tried to make sense of what the fuck they were talking about. Only a few minutespassed before she sighed. "I don't know what you guys are all ranting on about, and I can't really seem to give a damn either but... Is it really worth all the fuss right now?" the vulture mumbled, beginning to preen her feathers. "These... 'Games' or whatever you called them, were they really that bad?" She looked up a little, trying to imagine what it would've been like.

While his female counterpart thought and asked questions, Rhett's eyes were wide with recognition. He knew these games, he had heard of them during his days back home. He had flown with flocks of other bird Pokemon in his free time, and through gossip, had heard about them. He shifted uncomfortably, remembering some of the gruesome, most likely over-dramatized (at least, that's what he assumed) descriptions of what happened. "...I think they were really that bad." he muttered, voice hushed as he began to bite into an Oran Berry. "I knew some pals who watched the games, some of them were totally into it... Others didn't know how to react."

Finnick remained silent during Aerith's words, his only motion involving his antennae nervously knotting and unknotting themselves. His eyes watched the others carefully, resting on the dragon as she explained herself. "No. But my Partner almost died trying to put a stop to one of those so-called 'games'. And I, along with him, spent over half my life trying to put an end to them." She seemed to stare at Seneca, the air becoming more suffocating every passing moment. "That's what officers do."

An officer? Finnick paused in his near-furious knot-tying, eyes resting on her a moment longer. So the law in Orre had tried in vain to intervene... he wasn't surprised that she and her human had failed. He remembered the crowds, the cheers... the Games were nearly a region-wide tradition. Why would that many people want such a thing stopped? However, Seneca echoed his own thoughts, voicing them aloud when Finnick lacked the voice to do it himself.

“Snow mentioned you guys once in awhile,” the fox commented, his exhaustion seeping into his voice. Finnick's eyes widened at the name, the face of a anow-white serperior and his former trainer flashing in his mind's eye. “I suppose you never met him, or the humans – they were virtually untouchable. Needless to say, you didn’t get very far in your little ‘mission’, did you?” Seneca sneered, and Finnick's blood ran cold as he realized just what the fox had once been, what he had been defending for the past few hours. “Do you have any idea of how much money it brought in? People loved the Games. We shifted through hundreds of applicants. Everyone wanted to be a part of it, everyone wanted to win.” He took a breath as nearly everyone else stayed silent, hanging onto the fox's words. “Of course, a few did.”

"These... 'Games' or whatever you called them, were they really that bad?" Joy growled, her impatience cutting through the tension, allowing Finnick to relax-- if only by a mere fraction. It seemed that her male counterpart felt to answer for them, his uneasiness mirroring at least what Finnick was feeling. "...I think they were really that bad." His voice was a mere mutter as he pecked desitractedly at a berry. "I knew some pals who watched the games, some of them were totally into it... Others didn't know how to react."

Haymitch, who had been quietly listening as he nursed a new flask, was watching the more key players as Senny spoke. Seemed Pretty Boy finally realized just what sort of ghosts were haunting this island, and just what sort of monster he'd so graciously invited. He smirked a little, taking another swig as he watched the fox and Dragon Lady, keeping their reactions firmly in his mind. When the lovebirds made their own comments, Haymitch scoffed; the fuck did these pidgeons know? "Oh, sure, lady," he mused, a sloppy grin on his face as he leaned against his pilliar. "We're just all bellyaching. Just bitching about some cuts and bruises-- don't mind us. Why don't you be useful and shut your mouth where you don't know what the fuck you're talking about, huh?" His tone was still airy, casual, even as he blatantly insulted her. "Shut up and listen-- you might learn something." He pushed himself lightly from his post, strolling a little closer.

"The 'Games' were a bunch of annual tournaments that weren't all that legal," Haymitch began, a small slur in his words. "The people of Orre get bored easily, it seems, and so they figured that putting pokemon together and making them fight wasn't enough-- what about a giant battle royale to the death? The best and worst were flung into an arena, and humans got to bet on their favorites for who would emerge the victor." He made a small motion with his hands, a gesture of civility and grandeur. "These Games... were what Orre waited for every year.

"It worked like this: each year, there were 24 applicants from various places around Orre. It was luck of the draw, really; trainers put in their names and then at the Opening Ceremonies -the Reaping- they'd pull out names of the pokemon entered. Whoever got picked was who got to fight. Over the course of a few days in a special arena, the chosen pokemon would get to slaughter each other mercilessly." He paused, looking over to Seneca and scoffed, his drunken smirk broadening. "Of course, the higher ups made sure things didn't get boring-- after all, people paid good money for this. So they sent him in to... spice things up. Make bad weather, turn allies against each other, lead rabid beasts toward sleeping Tributes... Right, Senny?"

Finnick's eyes went to the fox, his fears now realized. He was responsible for those disasters, for making his own life in the arena a living hell. He'd only just evolved when he was entered, barely making it out of the first day alive. He took in a deep, steadying breath, his anntenae finally settling down. Seneca's next words would concrete everything... The milotic silently willed the fox to watch his words.